


Love Burns

by FinduilasLissesul



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canon Universe, Historical Hetalia, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, World War II, also the title is a pun that will make sense with later chapters, norscot, scotnor, this is basically how I picture the events of norway and scotland during wwii
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26721043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinduilasLissesul/pseuds/FinduilasLissesul
Summary: The second world war has begun and Norway had to flee his country with the Royal family. While they now are safe in England, he has taken the trip up to stay with Scotland as there is little he can do in London. Still, he longs to be back with his own people - will he stay with Scotland for long?
Relationships: Norway/Scotland (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Rain

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for @NordicRareShipsWeek on tumblr for some of the prompts. It will update as the week moves along. The days and promts I don't post here, there will be an artwork on my tumblr @ifindus relating to this story. Thanks for reading!
> 
> This first chapter is for the second day with the prompt "Rain".

The drops splattered against the glass in a constant attack on the stone building. From behind the lead frame the heavy, dark clouds were enshrouding the coastal city, hiding everything outside in a veil of uncertainty. The dull light painted the framework as gratings in the shadow thrown on the figure and the floor inside. The rain slid down the glass as the person continued to stare out towards the sea. It was barely noticeable, but his stature was rigid and the tenseness apparent in the way he gripped the cuffs of his shirt. The grey stone walls, the stone floor and the weather seemed to swallow him whole. Not even the sound of footsteps approaching shook him from the state he was in, however, a low voice sounding out in the end of the hallway did.

“Sorry about the weather.” The footsteps had stopped, and the other person regarded the figure by the window. The man slowly blinked, as if he returned to the physical world, and turned his head, body never moving.

  
“It’s comforting.” He turned back to stare out onto the sea, deep eyes taking it all in. “It reminds me of home.”

  
“Norway.” The word hung in the space between them, both addressing the person and as a comment on the last statement.

  
“Yes…” He brought up a slightly shaking hand to brush the ashy hair out of his face.

  
“You know it’s not safe.” The other man began to slowly walk towards him again. “Especially not for nations like us-”

  
“I know.” The words sounded harsh with the urgency they left his mouth, cutting through the air. An uncomfortable silence filled the hallway and Norway’s eyes shifted towards the other, now standing still once more.

  
“Do you not like it here?” Spite and hurt dripped from the question. “Have I not made you feel welcome enough?”

  
“Scotland… you know that’s not it.” He glared over at the other country.

  
“You know, I’m starting to believe it’s _me_ you don’t like. The first time you come to visit in centuries and you’re itching to leave again as soon as possible.”

  
“Would you prefer it if I had stayed with England instead?”

  
“Well, you never stay long anywhere anyway, so it’s not like it matters much.” The following silence was only broken by the splattering raindrops and then a sigh from Norway. He dragged a hand down his face and continued to stare out the window. The bags under his eyes and the hollow cheeks witnessed of a deeply tired man.

  
“I’m sorry it has been a while…” He cleared his throat. “When you’re not in control of yourself, only used for producing resources and fighting battles for other people, time tends to disappear. I’m sure you can relate.”

  
“You were at the South Pole just a few decades ago. Yet here is too far away?”

  
“You could have visited me as well, you know? Don’t act like it’s entirely my fault.”

  
“Argh, can we just stop this?!” Scotland strode up to him and gripped hold of his shoulder, forcing him to face him. Blue eyes connected with green. “Don’t go! It’s dangerous. Germany is patrolling your entire coastline _and_ the Northern Sea. If he spots you, there’s no guarantee you’ll manage to escape.”

  
Norway grits his teeth and glares up at the other nation, brushing the hand of his shoulder.

  
“I refuse to be _occupied_.” He spits the last word. “I have fought too hard for my independence just to lose it now.”

  
“I _know_.” Scotland glares back down at him. “I don’t want you to throw it away.”

  
“Then _help_ me.” The blue eyes watered, drowning in the desperate situation. Strong arms weren’t late to grip and hold him close. An almost bruising hug conveyed what was still unspoken between them. Such a deep care and comfort weren’t found with many others.

  
“Whatever you need, I’ll be there.”

  
“It will just be for a short while.” He hugged him closer. “I will return soon.”

  
Scotland closed his eyes and breathed in deep, nose tucked into ashen blond hair.

  
“At least stay for tea.”

  
“Make it coffee and you have a deal.”


	2. Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scotland is driving Norway up towards Aberdeen to catch the ferry north. Things do not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit tardy and a bit rushed, but here it is.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

  
“I know I didn’t.”

  
Green hills, divided by fences made of stone, flashed by the window as the car drove through the landscape. The roads were old and had a few holes too many in them, evident by the constant shaking of the moving vehicle. Occasionally, the strip of dirt that was the road would drift east and the two passengers could see the shore and the vast sea beyond. Everything was grey. The autumn weather had set in for real this time, tearing off a few yellow leaves from the old trees here and there and taking them on a journey through the fields.

  
“I could have taken the train.”

  
“I _know_.” Scotland gritted his teeth. “For fuck’s sake, can’t you just accept it?”

  
“There are more important things you should be doing than driving me around.”

  
“Aye, probably!” He huffed loudly and clenched his fingers where they gripped the wheel. “But I _want_ to do it. So, just let me.”

  
Silence filled the car once again as it continued its path down a slope. Both the countries were wearing thick coats over knitted sweaters due to the gradually dropping temperature they had experienced that last few days. The car was quite new, bought only a few years prior to the war’s outbreak and had been intended as Scotland’s official transportation around Edinburgh. This had become even more apparent as they had left the city limits and ventured out on the bumpy dirt road. It had been far from a comfortable ride, and the tense air between them didn’t help the matter. Several hours had passed since they had left the city.

  
They had just gone down a short hill where a grove of trees lined the little stream at the bottom, passing over a sturdy stone bridge, when the car puttered miserably for a few metres before it came to a complete standstill. The two countries sat still for a moment. Norway sighed as he dragged a hand down over his face, rubbing at his temple.

  
“I really should have taken the train…” He mumbled under his breath. Scotland glared over at him and huffed before he scurried out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut behind him. Norway groaned as he followed suit.

  
The biting air was harsh when he stepped out of the car, causing him to rub his gloved hands together to create some warmth. Norway took in the surroundings, tall grass and bushes beneath broad trees, covered in dead leaves, leaning in towards the narrow road. He leant against the side of the car and noted how his breath came out as small clouds. Autumn was slowly becoming winter. Scotland was kneeling in front of the machine, his dark, curly hair the only thing visible from that angle. Norway rolled his eyes at the muttered swearwords coming from that direction. All the songbirds had flown south in preparation for the winter and so the only sounds they could hear was that of a lonely crow in the distance.

  
“What’s wrong with it?”

  
“I don’t fucking know!” The hot-head rose and in anger kicked at the front of the car, the hand crank abandoned by his feet. “It won’t start!”

  
“I can see that.” He sighed when all he got in reply was a yet another glare. “Would you like to keep trying? Or should we start walking?”

  
“Let’s just walk.”

  
Norway turned back around to open the door and fished out both their bags. His own he hoisted over his should while flinging the other over to Scotland. In silence, they begun trotting along the path, leaving the car and the trickle of the stream behind them. Not more than five minutes passed before they were out of the gathering of trees and once more surrounded by farmland. Sheep were small white dots scattered over the hills. The open space coming with an icy breeze.

  
After trekking along for a few kilometres, they finally reached a small town. Or, calling it a town was an overstatement. It was more some sort of a gathering of small houses. Scotland after a while managed to find a farmer who happily agreed to bring two of his horses down over to where the car had broken down. The man and his family also offered them a place to stay for the night and after dropping off their bags there, all three of them rode back for the vehicle. Norway held a tight grip on Scotland’s hips where they travelled on the shared horse. Anywhere else, would not have been appropriate.

  
It took some work and a lot of patience, although not much of the last one from Scotland’s side, but eventually they got the broken-down car all the way over to the man’s farm. By then it was already dark and time for supper. After a quaint meal with the farmer and his family the two nations retreated to a spare bedroom in the attic of the house. The walls were bare and slanted and the only furniture was a metal-frame bed with two mis-matched side tables with pink, crocheted tablecloths.

  
“Which side do you want?” Norway slumped his bag down by the door as Scotland walked in behind him.

  
“It doesn’t matter, I’ll just take right if you’re fine with that?”

  
“Sure.” The two countries were quiet as they stripped down to their undershirts and sat down on each their side of the bed. The pink flowery covers a stark contrast to the grim reality they were facing at the moment. Thankfully, the bed was large enough that they could lay down comfortably without touching the other. Not that either of them didn’t want to, it just was not… appropriate. The only thing they could do was lie beside each other in the darkness of the room, the space between them almost burning. The sound of their breaths filled the room.

  
“How many trees make a forest?” Norway suddenly broke the silence with a quiet murmur.

  
“What?” Scotland furrowed his large brows in confusion. “I don’t know. How many?”

  
“No idea. I was asking you.” He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “How many trees do there have to be before we can call it a forest? Are there any rules to the spacing of them?”

  
“… there’s just somethings you know, I guess? You wouldn’t call a gathering of trees a forest unless it’s large enough to be a forest.”

  
“Then you could almost say that a forest is a feeling.”

  
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. But I’m sure you would know better than me.”

  
“Or we could just have different perceptions of what a forest is.”

  
“Everyone has different perceptions about everything.”

  
“I guess that’s true.” Norway hummed in acknowledgement. There was a short beat of quiet before he spoke up again. “Your people are very kind.”

  
“Aye.”

“Friendly.”

“Mm.”

  
“And even if you don’t have many forests… it’s a beautiful country.” The only answer he got was a hand softly squeezing his own underneath the covers, where nobody else but them knew.


	3. Know that you are wanted and adored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have reached Aberdeen and it's time to say goodbye.

The smell of the ocean wafted towards them as the door of the train swung open and they stepped down onto the platform. In the end, they had caught a ride to Dundee and jumped on the train up from there. The city of Aberdeen appeared far from welcoming with its endless streets, grey sky and grey buildings. Pulling his coat tighter around him, Norway hoisted the strap of his bag further up his shoulder. The docks only lay a couple of hundred meters away from the train station, so they didn’t have to walk far this time. Still there was about an hour before the ferry was scheduled to depart and so both countries had slowed their pace considerably as they strolled down the lane. 

  
Out on the docks, seagulls flocked to the fishing boats that had just returned from the sea, filling the air with their hoarse screams. The familiar smell of fish and salt produced an even stronger sense of longing in Norway. If he just got to place his feet on the deck of a boat, he was sure he would feel calmer and more reassured. Reassured that everything would be all right in the end, even if the sky was covered with grey clouds right now. He felt his hand twitch where it gripped the bag strap.

  
“And what’s your plan now?”

  
Norway blinked himself back to the moment and turned his head towards the nation beside him. Scotland had a worried crease between his large eyebrows, eyes pinned on a point far ahead of them.

  
“I suspect you already know.”

  
“Have you talked to England about it?”

  
Norway sighed.

  
“Yes. I have.” He tucked away a lock of hair that had fell into his eyes. “Shetland is a good location for a base of operations. England will send up any Norwegian refugee willing to join… along with weapons and boats.”

  
“And you’ll be what? Leading?”

  
“Of course not.” Norway furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at the ground. “I will be… assisting. I will go with the first boat and then… we’ll just have to see how it goes I suppose.”

  
“Smuggling weapons and information over and bringing people back?”

  
“That’s the general idea of it, yes.”

  
They came to a stop as they reached the gangway up to the ferry. It would take almost a whole day to arrive in Lerwick, yet Norway was eager to begin the journey. Still, in a way it felt wrong to leave like this. He knew he was disappointing his generous host. However, these were feelings none of them could afford to have at the moment. There was a war going on.

  
“Scotland.” Norway turned to his friend with a serious look in his eyes. “I cannot express how much I appreciate what you have done for me. Thank you for letting me stay. And thank you for letting me go.”

  
Scotland chuckled. It was sad, yet… he still looked happy. A hand reached up and tousled the dark curls as he once again focused on Norway. They were at last facing each other fully.

  
“We twa hae paidl’d in the burn  
Frae morning sun till dine;  
But seas between us braid hae roar’s,  
Sin auld lang syne.”

  
Scotland smiled at him, green eyes stirring something deep inside him and Norway remembered why he really had to leave. It burned. It burned as Scotland continued.

  
“And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere  
And gie’s a hand o’thine,” he reached out and took Norway’s free hand in his own. It was calloused and rough, spreading warmth between them.   
“And we’ll tak a right gude-willy waught  
For auld lang syne.”

  
It felt as if something was stuck in his throat and it was only after blinking away what might have been tears that he did manage to speak.

  
“You’re quoting Burns now?” If Scotland noticed the quiver in his voice, he didn’t mention it.

  
“Well, love burns sometimes.” There it was. The word neither of them had mentioned until now. Avoided. _Love_. Love burns. And Norway truly felt it burn.

  
“Yes. It _does_.” Strangely, their handholding right now seemed like the most intimate thing they had ever done. And he _really_ did not want to let it go. But now was not the time and they both knew that. He gave the warm hand a squeeze before he released his grip.

  
“We’ll take a cup of kindness yet,  
for auld lang syne.” He smiled warmly as he took the first step up onto the gangway. “I’ll see you soon, Scotland.”

  
“See you soon, Norway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In october of 1940 the British established what would later be a force fully under Norwgian control stationed on the isles of Shetland in Scotland that lead several missions over to coastal Norway during the war, smuggling in weapons and rations to the resistance and bringing wanted people back over to Britain. Several of the ships would be sunk by the German forces, yet they would not stop their efforts until the war ended. Many Norwegian sailors and voluenteers participated in this.


End file.
